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Equal Night by Martha Marshall On September 22 summer ends, officially, with the autumnal equinox. (It never seems at all equalùor fairù to me.) Here in what I call "the frozen Northland," summer may end long before that. So every minute of daylight becomes more precious, every breath of warm fresh air more poignantùbecause it can't last. The whole concept of a "summer romance" is that, like summer itself, it's warm, bright, intense, and short. The end is built in; it's a tacit understanding. A certain point of balance is reached, and after that, it tilts toward the other side. The light fades; the darkness grows. Last September's equinox brought me the end of yet another summer romance (they're getting to be almost a hobby with me). I knew the end was coming (it's built in), but I had a much harder time letting go of this one. I kept looking back, thinking of all the warm summer kinds of things I had to give up. No more walks down the bike path. No more iced tea or ginger ale on a balcony or deck, with views of sun-setting glory through the Green Island Bridge (my favorite bridge). No more plays or concerts on the lawn (even though I nearly froze to death). No more. And the worst loss was no more time to get to know someone who was worth the wait through winter. But we came to that point of balance where day and night were equal for a moment, and then the balance began to tilt toward darkness and cold. Still, it's a certain balance I'm thinking about now, because this balance is important. We all love summer, but we need winter. Ends are built in, but so are beginnings. Summer has a way of making life seem easier than it is (ah, Gershwin!). In the course of my long life, I have often been apartment hunting during the summer, and my father used to warn me, "Ever' place looks good in the summer. Y' gotta think about how it's gonna be in the winter." Dad understood the necessity of balance. Balances aren't easy to maintain. Romance isn't easy to maintain. Real love takes a great deal of courage to maintain. It's way too easy to complain about all you can't do or don't have and blame someone else if you're not happy. With winter coming, there are dozens of those wintry personalities, those gloomy-Eeyore types that will begin to whine about all they can't do anymore and how dull and cold and dark and awful it is. I have no patience for these wimps. I have no patience for those who complain about Troy, eitherùif all they want to do is whine. Equinox means equal night, after all. I wouldn't say Troy is all sweetness and light, any more than the year is all summer. But we can, if we're brave enough, let go of summer fantasies and love on through the winter... Equal night. In cooperation with Troy United Ink Corp., a not-for-profit corporation 
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